<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Lifeboat in a Storm by jay_of_the_beholder</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26793673">Lifeboat in a Storm</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jay_of_the_beholder/pseuds/jay_of_the_beholder'>jay_of_the_beholder</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>18 Months Fic, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crying, Emotional, Feelings, Hugs, Japan Arc, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Wilde Needs A Hug, Wilde sleep challenge 2020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:47:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,023</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26793673</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jay_of_the_beholder/pseuds/jay_of_the_beholder</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not easy to forget what has happened, and being fatigued certainly doesn't help any.</p><p>(The fic where Wilde cries over everyone he's lost and Zolf is there to provide some comfort.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Zolf Smith &amp; Oscar Wilde, Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lifeboat in a Storm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Apparently when I have angsty feelings, I project onto Wilde. I'm making this a habit.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Everything rushes in at once. He breathes heavily, the adrenaline from the fight wearing off and leaving crushing fatigue in its wake. Wilde leans heavily against the wall in the hallway of the inn on his way back to his office, and takes a moment to steady himself. It doesn’t help that he hasn’t slept for a couple days, at least not consistently, and the bags that used to darken his eyes are quickly returning. He pulls a hand down his face, tries not to wince at the indentation left on his cheek, and hauls himself the rest of the way to his office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf is already there, ever punctual, flicking through papers on his desk and humming a shanty under his breath. He’s sturdy on his feet, Wilde admires and envies him for how well he manages to hold himself up after a strenuous 48 hours. He used to be able to do that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf looks up as he enters, his face hardening as he watches Wilde quickly cross the room and curse as his hip hits the desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wilde.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Smith.” He sits, trying not to make his incapacity obvious. Apparently he’s become unskilled at even that. Or maybe Zolf has spent too much time around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can do this tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or we can stop wasting time,” he fires back, hating the edge in his voice. Zolf doesn’t look hurt, instead gives him a slightly pitying look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilde shuffles a few papers so that a blank one is in front of him, and dips his pen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Report.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Zolf does, describing the incident just outside of town, their setting up a small overnight camp to watch and how it had gone south. Wilde pushes the memories of the incident out and numbly takes notes to send along to his associates. He has his pen still poised when Zolf finishes, and he blinks before realizing that all that could be said has been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least, for the mission.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf watches him for a moment, then shakes his head. “Get some sleep, Wilde. Yer dead on yer feet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods without really thinking, his head fuzzy. He used to be able to go days without feeling like this, when did that change?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A firm hand on his arm all but dragging him back to his room makes him remember </span>
  <em>
    <span>who</span>
  </em>
  <span> had caused the change, and he quickly attempts to push down the tears that well in his eyes. He can’t think about them right now. Everyone he’s lost. He can’t--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gods damn it, Wilde,” Zolf says beside him… beside him? “Get up, I can’t pick you up myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure you could,” he says groggily, realizing his position on the floor of his room. Ah.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not tonight. Come on, up you get.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilde merely hums, falling back onto his knees. “I’ll just sleep here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can hear the eyeroll in Zolf’s voice as the dwarf stops lightly tugging his arm. “You can’t sleep on the floor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure I can.” His voice cracks, and he suddenly realizes that outwardly, he’s not doing a very good job of hiding the choked feeling in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf makes a small noise of concern, and turns on the lamp on the sidetable. When he turns around, Wilde quickly looks away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on?” Zolf’s voice is softer now, and he walks over to crouch by Wilde. “What’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” he lies, hating the words as soon as they exit his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not.” Zolf’s words hold no malice. No ill intent. “D’you wanna talk about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilde shakes his head, his hair falling down on either side. He can see the unevenness in it, draping down with none of its former bounce. A tear falls into the crevice that marrs his face, and he winces as if the wound stings, despite being closed up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He welcomes the arms that wrap around him without question, his walls breaking and his hands clutching at the loose fabric that adorns Zolf. When he squeezes his eyes shut he expects to see them. Sasha, Grizzop, Hamid, Azu. But the space behind his eyes is black for once, and the feeling of safety around him is overwhelming. Zolf is whispering something reassuring into his hair, and pulling him closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wishes he could say something in return, but instead elects to wrap his arms around the dwarf and hold on for dear life, because Wilde is drowning and he is the lifeboat in the middle of a storm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf stays, he doesn’t know for how long, and as they slowly pull away from each other, Wilde is taking deep breaths, and Zolf’s shirt is definitely more damp than it was before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a right mess,” the dwarf says, and Wilde manages a breathy laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, Wilde accepts the help and stands. He collapses onto the mattress, and Zolf sits awkwardly next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” Wilde mumbles, placing a delicate hand in the crook of Zolf’s elbow from where he lays. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t apologize. I’m here to help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re just as tired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like hell I am. You’ve gotten far less sleep than me.” Zolf turns to him with a somber look. “Besides. I know what it’s like. I haven’t figured out how to help myself yet, helping you is the closest I can get.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilde is speechless for a moment, but gives a slow nod. “Alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf breathes out a puff of air, and Wilde retracts his hand as he gets up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get some sleep. We’ve still got work to do, and we need you on your best game.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes sir,” Wilde teases with a yawn, shifting to make himself more comfortable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. See you in the morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clunking footsteps cross to his door, and Wilde glances over at him as he leaves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight Zolf,” he says quietly, not really expecting the sailor to hear him. He shouldn’t underestimate his hearing, though, because the dwarf turns and offers him a brief, comforting look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“G’night Wilde.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door closes with his eyes, and he drifts into a dreamless slumber.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I had Lifeboat from Heathers stuck in my head while writing this. The plot twist? I've only heard the song a couple times and have no idea what the lyrics are. Take that as you will.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>